


Nice to Meat Ya

by orphan_account



Series: Fullmetal Fortnight 2014 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Character Study, Devil's Nest, Gen, I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT ULCHI DOESN'T HAVE A CHARACTER TAG THE FUCK, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name’s Greed. You’ve probably heard of him; hell, most of the world has. The guy who fucked up Daten City, tore out the gangs and triads, and turned the notorious bed of criminals city upside down for shits and giggles prior and moved around most of Amestris’s other dens of vipers doing the same prior to settling down in the Dublith underworld. Apparently because there’s a butcher shop down the corner whose proprietor is perpetually unable to find a single <em>damn</em> about a guy in a giant-ass fur ruff and teeny vest shows up on a weekly basis to demand more meat than the entire Amestrisian military eats in a month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice to Meat Ya

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FMA Week 2014. Prompt 2-A: "Sins". Also written for the prompt: "You know that headcanon about Greed buying meat from Izumi? How the fuck would the chimaeras respond?"
> 
> Since Ulchi for some fucking reason doesn't have a character tag, he's the crocodile chimaera who works as a bouncer at the Devil's Nest. Dammit. Anyway, I touch up on all seven sins here. Either of the chimaeras is meant to represent or in some way evoke one of the sins, while Greed evokes both, well, avarice, and another. Enjoy!
> 
> Unedited/unbeta'd/etc. Enjoy!

His name’s Greed. You’ve probably heard of him; hell, most of the world has. The guy who fucked up Daten City, tore out the gangs and triads, and turned the notorious bed of criminals city upside down for shits and giggles prior and moved around most of Amestris’s other dens of vipers doing the same prior to settling down in the Dublith underworld. Apparently because there’s a butcher shop down the corner whose proprietor is perpetually unable to find a single _damn_ about a guy in a giant-ass fur ruff and teeny vest shows up on a weekly basis to demand more meat than the entire Amestrisian military eats in a month.

Most of said meat goes to Martel, who could probably out-eat anyone else in the Devil’s Nest. She’s the woman who runs her missions with a finesse that leaves not a singular trace of her anywhere near the jewellery burglaries, moonshine deliveries, and occasional witness-silencing murders that trace her involvement in Dublith. She’s _also_ the woman who would convert to full-on chimaera form just to unhinge her jaw so that she can swallow an _entire steak_ in one bite, then reach down into her bulging throat and fish out the plate.

Of course, the honour of the second most important meat-eater at the Nest would be awarded to the great Bido who, standing at the table with his hooked hands nervously rapping against the counter, suddenly snaps a couple kilograms of meat in his reptillian jaws. Gulps it down ridiculously rapidly, throat churning and hand-tapping intensifying, his eyes bulging anxiously in the direction of anyone who would take his meal from him. Whenever Greed brings in a dessert, _daring_ to share with Ulchi or Dolcetto or one of the others, Bido apparates out of nowhere to glower jealously until Greed laughs and offers him a slice as well.

Third, according to Greed’s entirely unofficial statistics culled from dumping the meat load in the kitchen Sunday mornings and observing the results with an amused smirk on his mouth and a bottle of vintage in his hand, would belong to his loyal lapdog. The _man_ with the _katan_ , as Roa calls him. Dolcetto. Who follows his master to the butcher’s, helps cart the meat back, and then settles in the shadow to allow the others a crack first. Only thereafter does he appear to polish the remains before curling up by Greed’s side or taking a nap in the sunbeam patch near the window. Perhaps Dolcetters would win, hands down, if he weren’t so loyal and patient. On the other hand, however, hearing him snore softly after meals is one of the few noises Greed would label _cute_ , and he wouldn’t trade Dolcetter’s loyalty for the world.

Fourth and dead last would have to go to Ulchi. For all of his bulging muscles and crocodilian jaws, he’s surprisingly delicate when dinnertime comes. Ignoring Martel’s good-natured teasing, Ulchi cuts thin strips from the meat to cook them with salt and pepper, and a veritable fuck-ton of garnish. Then he pops off into the bar to try to woo one of the ladies with his gourmet bacon. Admittedly delicious gourmet bacon, but gourmet _bacon_ nonetheless. Sometimes this works. Sometimes said ladies will break his spine over a chair. Sometimes the ladies will take his bacon only to woo another lady in turn, leaving the Devil’s Nest with two overexcited lesbians and one miserable Ulchi to crawl up to the bar and request a stiff drink.

Roa—his bovine stomach prompting a life of vegetarianism—hefts his sledgehammer over his shoulder whenever he charges the kitchen. From the icebox he pulls out frozen vegetables; from the pantries he snags fruits and herbs. “Hey, Chief, you want me to start up the pasta?” he says, juggling tomatoes and fettuccine. Greed shrugs, answers that, sure, he’d like to feel Aerugish today. Humming under his breath Roa—described as the Eight Wonder of the World by Martel, who has never been able to understand how a diet devoid of meat could lead to a build that muscular—crafts a meal more delicious than nearly anything Greed’s tasted in a _long_ while. Then he cracks his knuckles and returns to work as the Devil’s Nest other bouncer, along with Ulchi. For all of his vegetarianism, Roa couldn’t be a pacifist if he tried: He enjoys cracking heads _far_ too much for his own good. Which doesn’t stop Greed from laughing, bemused, at the blood on the floor.

Well, his name’s still Greed. You’ve probably heard of him; hell, most of the world has. And yeah, sure, he buys his chimaeras meat. But it’s _not_ out of generosity or charity or whatever. It’s equivalent exchange, really, for their being the best fuckin’ crew he could’ve asked for.

His name’s Greed, but some days he feels more like Pride.


End file.
